A Sweet Blankness
by Sofia Merriweather
Summary: Fakir misses the girl that would surprise him and bring him out of his sulks. He misses the girl with wild orange hair and bundles of energy. Fakir misses Duck.


A/N: Hello! This is not Sherlock. I apologize. Nevertheless, enjoy!

* * *

Fakir misses Duck.

And he hates himself more and more for the thought, because he _has _a Duck, a little yellow bird that quacks at him and loves bread- but that isn't _his _Duck and he hates it, he hates it.

Wasn't he the one who told her that she should revert to her true self?

Wasn't he the one who said he'd stay by her side, no matter what?

Fakir backtracks - he won't ever leave her, no matter what she is, but…

He misses the girl that would surprise him and bring him out of his sulks. He misses the girl with wild orange hair and bundles of energy.

Fakir misses Duck.

* * *

During the day, it's not quite so bad. He sits at the pier and watches Duck swim aimless circles in the water below him. Sometimes he dances and she watches carefully from the edge of the lake. He doesn't go to school anymore- he has a destiny, and this one he thinks he'll follow. Rewriting Drosselmeyer's works is long and arduous but Fakir knows he can change not only Goldcrown Town, but the world for the better.

At night, though, Fakir tosses and turns. Normally he gives up and goes to stand by the window, watching the image of the moon on the lake waver and blur. Duck doesn't need much sleep nowadays, only about three hours, Fakir read, so she watches him in turn.

"Quack?"

"It's nothing, Duck." And he'll turn and pat her on the head and then go back to his bed to stare at the ceiling.

Other nights, he falls asleep only to have nightmares. He doesn't make it to Krahe's stage in time. Duck confesses her love and turns into light. He dies. Duck dies, later. He dies in the oak tree, Duck dies, he gets his hands cut off, Duck dies, he can't write, he isn't good enough; she dies over and over before his eyes.

He always wakes to a worried quack and a little yellow duck nestling up against his side. He roughly wipes his tears away and then pulls the duck into a hug.

(He likes the feeling of a warm body pulled against his).

(He just wishes it was human).

* * *

Autor sneers down at him, when he bothers to visit Fakir.

"You're an author. You have the power. Why don't you just write her back into a human?"

And Fakir explodes, at the tone, at the implication he'd never thought of it before, at Autor.

Fakir has tried.

Fakir knows it's not that easy.

* * *

It's the day that she forgets her own name that breaks him.

"Duck, we should probably go in."

Duck swims circles happily in the dying light.

"Duck, come on. Let's go."

She bobs for a tasty morsel on the bottom of the pond.

Fakir's blood runs cold.

"Duck, can you hear me?"

Nothing.

"Duck? Duck, answer me!" until he's kneeled on the ground, shaking and crying. Only then does she notice him, and quacks curiously, waddling over. He picks her up a little too roughly, and she squirms but he holds her tight in his hands and looks for depth in her clear blue eyes.

All he can see is a happy, dull confusion.

* * *

So he begins to write.

He remembers trying this before-

_It's hurting her, how do I stop it, how-_

-and he writes on anyway. He knows he is selfish and cold to not consider the fact she may want to remain a duck, but he cannot live in a world without Duck. His Duck, one with memories and warm arms and enough hope to save the entire town.

He writes, spilling his thoughts onto the page, his love. Fakir can't stand the thought of her not recognizing him, not knowing _herself_. So he writes and writes.

_The little yellow duck wanted nothing more than the happiness of everyone else. But the boy who wove stories wanted nothing more than her happiness. In the end, they met in the middle. _

And with one final line, he's done.

Fakir waits.

* * *

He hears her howling, somewhere between a quack and a scream. He runs to her side as her limbs elongate and her feathers turn to skin. Nothing is as simple or painless as magic anymore.

Fakir takes Duck into his arms and holds her as she cries.

"Fakir. Fakir, what's happening to me?" and he is crying too, at seeing her again, at hearing her voice. Everything is worth it.

"It's okay, Duck. You're okay," he says, but his voice is already warping. He coughs to try to hide it.

She is almost entirely human again and he can feel a pressure building all around him. He clenches his teeth but they harden and elongate and Fakir hurts too much to even hold onto Duck anymore, but this is what he wanted, isn't it? And seeing her there, human and worried and _beautiful_, he is happy. So happy.

Duck is crying and yelling at him but he can't understand her; he can only feel this crushing sensation. And Fakir struggles to remember-

_Duck?_

-for as long-

_Who…is Duck?_

-as he can.

Then there is a sweet blankness.

* * *

Duck found the manuscript seconds later.

…_In the end, they met in the middle. The girl would become human again, for the boy's happiness and her own. And in exchange, the boy would become a duck. For what else could he do for this girl who he owed (and loved) so much?_

Duck dropped the paper and fell to her knees. A little black duck waddled up to her and nuzzled her knee.

"Quack?"


End file.
